


Night Rider

by the100arrowlok



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Gore, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Vigilante AU, Vigilante!Lexa, coffee shop AU, med student!clarke, sort of a fast slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the100arrowlok/pseuds/the100arrowlok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clexa AU In which Clarke is a med student, and Lexa is a crime fighin', night ridin' vigilante, and they slowly fall in love when Lexa shows up in Clarke's apartment one night with a bleeding gash on her leg.</p><p>Or</p><p>The Vigilante/Coffee Shop AU absolutely no one asked for.</p><p>Rating may change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Clexa fanfic, so I apologize for any grammatical errors or incorrect medical terminology or science. I hope you enjoy!

The first time Clarke found her, she nearly scared the poor girl to death. It was a dreary summer's eve, the lingering scent of a recent rainstorm hung in the air. Clarke Griffin, a 25 year old med student was still in her work scrubs, fixing dinner in her New York apartment, after a long day at work, when she heard a crash outside her 3rd floor balcony. Curious as to what caused the noise, she forgot all about her Kraft Mac-And-Cheese, and walked toward her balcony. As she pulled open the doors, she was certainly not expecting to find a girl, clad in black to be slumped against the railing of her balcony, clutching her leg, breathing heavily. Clarke let out a small scream, startled at the sight. 

"Help me, and I might let you live." The girl's voice sounded raspy and deep, as she nodded toward her leg. It was then when her heart rate returned to normal, Clarke noticed the gash in her pant leg, a bloody stain, bleeding profusely, not so easily noticeable against the black coloring. A black mask covered her face, but Clarke could see the girl's intense green eyes focused on her. 

"Uh, y-yeah sure, ok," Clarke managed to stammer out, "c-can you walk?" The mysterious girl hoisted herself up, bracing against the balcony railing, a sharp hiss of pain escaping her lips. Blood trickled from the girl's leg, as she stumbled forward. Clarke caught her before could hit the ground, putting the girl's arm around her shoulder, guiding her into her apartment. 

"Ok, um, I think we should get you to a hospital. You're loosing a lot of blood," Clarke said, leading the girl to the table. Blood dripped on the floor; she would have to do a lot of cleaning later. 

"No hospitals," the girl in black all but growled, glaring. She looked Clarke up and down, "you're a doctor, fix my leg."

"Well, I'm actually more of a registered nurse—" Clarke said, but suddenly the girl went limp in her arms, falling unconscious. Clarke immediately eased her down onto her kitchen table, using one arm to clear away her junk, various things clattering to the floor, before inspecting the girl's injured leg. She put two fingers into the crook of her neck, feeling for her carotid pulse. It was there, but just barely. She must've lost a dangerous amount of blood. Clarke bit her lip. This girl needed a hospital.

Clarke ran to the bathroom, and grabbed her sewing kit and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from under the sink. She then opened the medicine cabinets and grabbed several bandages, and an antibiotic ointment. She quickly dashed back into the kitchen, where the unconscious girl was lying on the table, blood still dripping down her thigh and onto the wooden surface.

Her leg was still bleeding, but not as much as before. She was still unconscious. Clarke pressed a hand against her cheek. She was slightly cold, her face a pale ashen color. Clarke frowned, humming slightly. She was going to have to cut away the black fabric surrounding the girl's wound. She removed a knife strapped to the girl's other thigh, and took off her belt filled with God knows what, and a pack on her back with what looked like two long rods. The blonde quickly dashed to the kitchen, grabbing a pair of scissors from the counter. Clarke carefully cut away the fabric around the gash. Thankfully, the pants she wore weren't too tight; they were pretty snug, but they didn't constrict the blood flow. 

Clarke quickly doused the wound in the girl's thigh with hydrogen peroxide to clean it. She then wiped away the blood and thoroughly cleaned the cut with a wet cloth. The gash wasn't as long as she initially thought. However, it was deep, she would need stitches. Luckily Clarke had a fresh suture kit ready. 

"Please don't die on me," Clarke whispered, preparing the needle and thread.

8 minutes and 12 stitches later, Clarke was finished suturing the girl's thigh. She spread the antibiotic paste over the stitched wound before covering it with a large bandage. 

"Sorry about this," she said to the unconscious girl, before cutting more of her black pants open in order to wrap her thigh with a bandage.

Soon after, Clarke noticed the girl's color finally return to her face. The girl's breathing had returned to normal as well. She looked – peaceful. She decided to remove her jacket, not wanting the girl to become too hot during the night. She gently unzipped the black leather jacket, easing it off her toned, muscular shoulders. She draped it over a chair near the table, hoping the girl would find it in the morning. The brown-haired girl wore a thin, black tank top underneath. Clarke noticed a small scar running from the top of her collarbone, down to where it disappeared under the neck of her tank top. Clarke looked up at the girl's face, the black mask still covering the rest of her face. Her fingers itched, tapping the table, as she contemplated taking it off. She decided against it, taking a step back from the table, running a hand through her blonde locks.

Clarke knew she wouldn't be able to move her to the couch, so she brought several pillows from her ratty, old couch, and propped them under her, placing a blanket over her. She would check on her in the morning. For now, she seemed alright. Clarke glanced at the clock mounted on her wall. It read 10:27. She ran a hand through her blonde locks again, sighing. She was exhausted, and her hands were bloody, and she was still in her grubby scrubs. Clarke took one one last glance at the sleeping girl on her kitchen table. She almost laughed aloud at how odd the whole sight was. She checked the girl one last time before heading toward the bathroom. She scrubbed the dried blood off her hands, washed her face, and brushed her teeth, before heading into her bedroom. Clarke grabbed a pair of shorts and an oversized Rolling Stones t-shirt off her dresser. She was too tired for her regular pajamas, these would do just fine. She stripped out of her scrubs, tossing them to a corner in her room, before donning the shirt and shorts and climbing into her to bed. The blonde fell asleep almost instantly as her head hit her pillow, dreaming of green.

• • •

Clarke woke to a weight on top of her, with a cool feeling on her neck. She hazily blinked away sleep and immediately jolted awake when she was met with a pair of piercing green eyes inches away from her blue. It was the girl from last night, her mask still concealing her face. Clarke blushed, realizing the girl was practically straddling her in her bed, and she subconsciously bit her lip.

 _Now is definitely not the time to be thinking about_ **that** , Clarke thought, suddenly aware of the knife pressed against her neck. It was then the mysterious girl finally spoke.

"Did you take off my mask?" The girl's voice was soft, but her tone was deadly. Clarke was taken aback by the strange question. She was more expecting a "who are you," and didn't reply right away. A tiny gasp escaped her lips as the side of the knife pressed deeper into her neck. It would surely leave a red mark.

"I won't ask again. Did you take off my mask?" The tone was forceful. 

"N-no, no I swear I didn't," Clarke managed to stammer out after remembering she almost did. The girl's eyes softened and she moved off of Clarke. However, the knife still remained at her neck.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Clarke. Clarke Griffin," Clarke introduced herself. 

"You fixed my leg, yes?" The girl pointed at the bandages wrapped around her thigh. Clarke nodded, not trusting her words. 

"Thank you." The girl removed her knife and Clarke let out a tiny breath of relief she didn't realize she was holding in. She then pushed the covers off and swung her legs over the side of her bed. For a moment she thought about how the brunette would think of her in her bed clothes, but Clarke figured she probably didn't care. She blinked a few times before finally finding her voice.

"W-wait, you really lost a lot of blood. As a medical professional, I would strongly suggest going to the hospital." The girl shot Clarke a glare, and she shut up immediately.

"Like I said, I don't do hospitals. I'll be fine." 

"Well, um, can I at least offer you something to eat? Drink?" Clarke asked, pausing to watch the girl pull on her jacket, zipping it up, and re clipping her belt. She turned towards Clarke, her green eyes flashing beneath her mask, strapping her pack to her back.

"Can I trust you, Clarke Griffin?" she said, her jade orbs fixated on Clarke's blue. 

"Um, yes, of course," the blonde replied, watching as the girl gave a slight nod, seemingly satisfied with her answer, before she approached the balcony.

"Then you will speak to no one about this encounter." 

Before Clarke could reply, the brunette leapt over the side of the balcony from whence she came, and disappeared from sight. Clarke rushed over her balcony, looking down in disbelief. She was gone.


	2. A Visitor in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lexa shows up bleeding again, but this time, she's shirtless. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! 1000+ hits in only the first two days!? You guys are amazing! I honestly didn't think that many people would be all that interested in my story, but I'm glad you guys have enjoyed it so far! :) This one's a bit longer than the first, but without further ado, here's chapter two :)

The second time Clarke saw her, she broke her favorite mug. It had been a whole month since that night where the mysterious girl disappeared off her balcony. Not a day had gone by that she'd hadn't thought of her intense green eyes. And of course, she hadn't told a soul. Clarke was _almost_ worried she would never return, but a gut feeling told her someday she would.

It was a Saturday night, in late August, nearing the end of summer. Clarke had reluctantly gone out with some friends to a club. Partying was never really her forte, but it was the weekend, and Raven and Octavia had been nagging her to go, saying she never left her apartment. So Clarke went, had a few drinks, danced a little, and maybe flirted with the cute bartender a tiny bit. 

It was around midnight when Clarke and her friends reached her apartment complex. Tomorrow was Sunday, and nobody had to be anywhere important, so Clarke invited them to crash at her place, to which they happily obliged.

To be quite honest, Clarke admitted to herself that she actually did have a little fun going out with her two best friends. It was true she mostly stayed at home, aside from work at the hospital. So when she unlocked the door to her apartment, she definitely wasn't expecting to find the brown haired girl from her balcony standing shirtless, clad only in a black sports bra and pants, in her kitchen, pressing a cloth against her upper right shoulder.

Clarke was so startled by the sight, she screamed, flinging her keys wildly into the apartment. Unfortunately, her favorite mug was sitting on the edge of her table, and was hit by the assailing keys. It crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces. The brunette simply continued to press the cloth to her shoulder, unmoving from her spot, until she noticed Clarke's companions standing in the doorway.

"Uh, Clarke, why is there a shirtless girl standing in your kitchen?" Raven was the first to speak, pointing at the girl, looking expectantly at Clarke. The blonde stood dumbfounded, unable to speak.

"Who are they?" The brunette growled, her hand flying toward the knife at her thigh.

"Wait!" Clarke nearly shouted, finding her voice, stepping fully into her apartment, "it's okay, they're my friends. You can trust them. I promise I didn't tell them about you. They won't tell anyone, will you, guys?" She glanced at her friends, who quickly shook their heads, "I uh, didn't know you were coming," Clarke trailed off, giving a slight chuckle, relaxing as the masked girl hesitantly lowered her hand.

"Uh, Clarke, I think we're just gonna call a cab, seeing as you two clearly have some talking to do," Octavia quipped, before the brunette could reply, as she grabbed Raven's arm, looking back and forth from Clarke and the girl standing in her kitchen, "let's go, Rave." 

"You guys don't have to—" Clarke started, but they were already gone.

"Clarke Griffin," a soft yet stern voice caused Clarke to look up, into the green gaze of the masked girl standing shirtless in her kitchen. 

"Yes?" she answered, quietly closing her apartment door, before taking a tentative step toward the brunette. 

"I need you to take this bullet out of my shoulder," the girl turned around, her back facing Clarke, as she removed the cloth, revealing a bloody wound. The blonde walked to the girl, inspecting the wound on her shoulder. There was indeed a bullet embedded in the flesh of her right deltoid. Clarke visibly winced at the sight of it. It looked painful, but the masked girl was standing calmly, barely even flinching. 

"Well, it isn't too deep into your shoulder, um, but it will need to come out and I'll probably have to sew you up again," Clarke explained. The girl nodded.

"Do what you must, Clarke Griffin."

"You can just call me Clarke, if you want," the blonde said, trying really hard not to run her hands over the hard muscle that covered the girl's back. She noticed various scars running along her back wondering what they were from. She settled for just placing her hand on the top of the girl's muscular shoulder, but instantly recoiled when the brunette tensed under her fingertips. 

"Is it, uh, is it okay if I touch your shoulder? To take the bullet out and stitch you up?" Clarke asked softly, afraid she may have upset the masked girl. 

"Yes, sorry, do what is necessary," she answered, relaxing her shoulder and back. 

"Here, sit right here," Clarke said, motioning for the girl to sit in a nearby kitchen chair, "I'll be right back with the supplies I need. Don't move, okay?" The brunette nodded, sitting in the chair, leaning forward slightly. 

Clarke hurried to the bathroom, grabbing some bandages, gauze, medical tape, and the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She then opened her medicine cabinet and pulled out her sewing kit and the antibiotic paste. Once Clarke returned to the kitchen, she positioned herself behind the wounded girl, immediately getting to work.

The blonde poured some hydrogen peroxide onto a clean cloth, holding it above the girl's injured shoulder.

"This may sting a little," Clarke warned, before gently pressing the cloth onto the area around the bullet to clean it. The brunette didn't even flinch. Once Clarke was finished cleaning the wound, she examined the girl's shoulder, deciding what to do next. It wasn't too deep into her flesh, she could see the end of the slug poking through her lacerated skin. She could easily just pull it out, but it would certainly cause the girl quite a bit of pain, and Clarke had no anesthesia. 

"Well, we have two options," the blonde said, moving from behind to kneel in front of the masked girl, "I don't have any anesthetics. There's an emergency clinic about five blocks south from here, but I know how you feel about hospitals, and also I don't know how long that bullet's been in there, and I don't want to risk it getting infected. So our other option is I give you a beer and take that bullet out for you right here," Clarke looked into the intense emerald gaze, before she stood up and walked to her fridge. She opened the door and pulled out a beer, twisting the cap off before walking back and offering it to the shirtless girl with a slight smile. 

The brunette quickly accepted the bottle, taking a long swig. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her arm, looking up at the blonde girl's sky blue eyes.

"Do what you must, Clarke," she said, taking another sip. 

"Are you sure? It's going to hurt. I know you don't like but hospitals, but I'm staring to think it's not totally a bad idea," Clarke trailed off, looking back at the girl.

"I'm sure, just get it out." 

"O-okay," the blonde said, opening her sewing kit and taking out a small scalpel, and a pair of tweezers. She turned to face the masked brunette, finding her green gaze.

"If the pain is unbearable, please tell me and I'll stop." The girl shook her head, and Clarke swore she saw the tiniest glimpse of a smile curling on her lips.

"It won't be," she said, bringing the beer up to her lips, taking another long swig, "just do it." Clarke simply nodded, moving back behind her.

"Okay," she began, holding up the scalpel and a bandage, "I'm gonna cut away some of the flesh surrounding the bullet, to make it easier for me to get it out, okay?" The girl nodded, and Clarke took that as a sign to proceed. She steadily pushed the small scalpel into the brunette's muscled shoulder, right at the edge of where the bullet was lodged. It started to bleed, and Clarke pressed the bandage against the area. A small grunt escaped the girl's lips; Clarke was surprised how calm she was. Normally, anyone would be howling in pain at this point. The blonde continued to carefully cut away more flesh, using the bandage to soak up the blood. 

"Alright," Clarke announced, when enough of the girl's skin was removed and the bullet was practically falling out, "now I'm going to use these tweezers to extract the bullet, okay?" The brunette nodded, taking a quick gulp from her beer. Clarke noticed her green eyes were shut tight, and her gloved hands were clenched at her sides. Even though Clarke couldn't see, she had no doubt the girl's fists were clenched so tight beneath her gloves, her knuckles were white. 

_Well, duh! It's obvious she's in pain_ , Clarke thought, picking up the tweezers, and setting the scalpel down in the table. As she pressed the tweezers around the edge of the bullet, the brunette tensed slightly, but made no move to stop Clarke, so she continued. Once the tweezers were firmly placed around the bullet, Clarke placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, giving a light pat for comfort. 

"This is probably going to hurt," she said. The brunette took a deep breath, opening her eyes.

"Do it," she grunted, taking a drink from her beer. Clarke nodded, and began to pull gently. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and went to stop, but the masked girl shook her head.

"I'm fine just do it, Clarke!" she was almost shouting. Clarke continued to wriggle the bullet out until with one last tug it finally gave, slipping out of the tweezers and clinking to the floor. Blood began the flow from the hole where the bullet once was, and Clarke pressed the bandage firmly to the girl's shoulder. The brunette turned to face Clarke, and the blonde smiled, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"You did it. Thank you, Clarke Griffin." Clarke was certain she saw the corner of the masked girl's lips curl up into the tiniest smile, her emerald eyes shining. 

"Well, I still have to stitch you up, but for now, just keep pressure on your shoulder to stop the bleeding," Clarke told the girl, getting her sewing kit ready. 

Several minutes later, the bleeding had finally slowed to a point where Clarke could suture the girl's wound. She removed the bloody bandage, and began sewing her wound closed.

"You might feel a little poke and some tightness," the blonde warned, sliding the needle into the girl's skin, completing the first stitch.

"That's okay," the brunette replied, "nothing I haven't felt before." 

"How'd you even get that bullet in there in the first place?" Clarke asked, her tone light, as she continued to sew up the girl's injury. 

"It's nothing, really, I was just in a bad part of town," came the masked girl's response. 

"Oh, is that why you wear the mask?" Clarke was joking, but she immediately regretted it when the girl stiffened and didn't reply. 

"I mean, shoot, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit a sensitive subject. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," Clarke apologized. The masked girl sighed, taking a drink.

"I'm not ready yet, Clarke. I can't. I'm sorry."

"No, no! Hey, that's perfectly fine, you're perfectly fine." They continued in silence as Clarke finished stitching the bullet wound. Once she finished tying the last knot, she applied the antibiotic cream over the newly stitched wound, before taping a piece of gauze over it, covering it with a bandage. 

"There, all done," she stated, standing up and stretching. Clarke glanced at the clock; 1:04. She yawned, suddenly realizing how late, or early she supposed, it really was. She was grateful it was Sunday tomorrow, otherwise she very well may have slept through her shift.

"Thank you, Clarke Griffin, truly, I mean it."

"You're always welcome. You were very brave," Clarke suddenly noticed she didn't even know the brown haired girl's name, trailing off her sentence. The girl must've noted her sudden pause, and seemed to be deep in thought, before she looked into the blonde's eyes. 

"They call me The Commander," she finally said, reaching to grab her jacket from where it rested on the arm of Clarke's couch. She slipped it on, wincing slightly when her shoulder stretched. 

"The Commander, huh? Catchy," Clarke smiled, "do you want any pain medication?" She asked, noticing the look of strain gracing her features, her smile turning into an expression of worry. The masked girl shook her head.

"No, thank you, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, Clarke. I should go, anyway, you must be exhausted." Clarke was, indeed, exhausted, but a part of her wanted the masked girl to stay.

"Are you sure? You literally just had a bullet taken out of you, and you might feel a little fuzzy from all that alcohol."

"I assure you, I'll be fine," the girl reassured, turning toward the balcony.

"Will I, uh—" Clarke started, rubbing the back of her neck, as the brunette walked toward the balcony, "will I, ever see you again?" The girl turned, and she searched the brunette's green gaze, looking for any sign of emotion. She saw the girl's eyes and features soften, and the corner of her lips twitched, a hopeful feeling rising in the blonde's chest.

"May we meet again, Clarke." It was almost a whisper, but Clarke caught it and held the masked girl to her word, as she watched her disappear over the balcony once again, vanishing out of sight.


	3. Stolen Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commander shows up again, but not for the reason you might think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Another chapter! So sorry about the wait, guys, school has been keeping me quite busy. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! So as you can see, here's chapter three!

The third time Clarke saw her, she nearly choked on her morning coffee. It was Tuesday morning; Clarke was getting ready for her shift at the hospital, reading the newspaper. A different mug was in her hand, since she broke her favorite one about two weeks ago. She smiled fondly as she remembered how she broke it, a pair of emerald eyes flashing in her mind. It had been just over a week since she last saw the masked brunette. Clarke's smile widened as she remembered the warm feeling that went through her when the green-eyed girl said they'd meet again. 

Her blue eyes skimmed across the local page, catching a glimpse of a headline that read: **new bagel shop opens on 42nd and 3rd.**

 _Hmm,_ Clarke thought, _I'll have to check that out someday._

The blonde hummed lightly as she took a bite out of her raspberry muffin, flipping the newspaper over. As she took a rather large sip of her coffee, another headline caught her eye.

**Masked hero saves young woman**

Clarke's breath caught in her throat as she saw a somewhat blurry, yet still comprehensible photo of a masked brunette, pictured below the headline. Unfortunately, so did her coffee, as she coughed suddenly, choking on the warm liquid. She coughed a few more times and once her fit was done, she set her mug down, and closer examined the photo. The figure's face was turned to the camera, a black mask was visible. It was dark, but the camera's flash illuminated her face. Clarke could see her brunette hair pulled back and braided. The dead giveaway was how the flash lit up her eyes. They were bright green. Clarke knew it was her; the girl who had quite literally crashed into Clarke's life that night, and had recently been the focal point of most of her thoughts. 

_Wow,_ Clarke mused, _whoever took this picture must've gotten pretty to close to The Commander._ Clarke chuckled lightly, remembering the girl had revealed her alter ego. The blonde's eyes dropped down to read the short article posted under the photo. 

_BROOKLYN ––– It was Monday evening, 26 year old Jessica Hastings had just gotten off the subway. She was about to head to her apartment, when she was attacked from behind._

_"I screamed, and once I turned around and there he was; a big guy in a ski mask. He's in custody now, but at the time I couldn't see his face. He grabbed my purse and shoved me to the ground," Hastings recalled, "I tried to fight back, but then he pulled a knife, so I just laid there on the cement. But then all of a sudden, I see a flash of black, and he's suddenly on the ground, and there's a figure standing in between me and the guy who mugged me." Jessica remembers that her rescuer had tossed her purse back and proceeded to confront her attacker._

_"At first she just tried to talk the man down, but then he came at her with the knife and that's when things got serious," Hastings said. According to Jessica, after her attacker lunged toward the masked woman, she simply kicked the knife out of his hand, gave him a few well-placed punches, and he was down._

_"It was amazing really, it happened so fast. She just took him out. And then she just disappeared. She told me to call 911, which I did, and then she was gone."_

_Mark Kenworth, who captured the photo of Miss Hastings' rescuer, also witnessed the whole encounter._

_"Yeah, it was pretty intense. I was walking home from work when I heard a scream. I ran towards it to see if anyone needed help, and that's when I saw the young lady on the ground with that man above her holding a knife. I pulled out me phone to call 911, when she [the rescuer] showed up out of nowhere."_

_Kenworth said when the masked figure incapacitated the mugger, she turned toward him and he quickly snapped a picture._

_"She turned to me, and I got a pretty good shot of her face. And then she disappeared, just vanished into the night."_

_This isn't the first claimed sighting of "The Commander" as some are taking to calling her. It is the first photo, however. Whoever this masked hero was, we are thanking her. Crime in this area has significantly decreased over the past month. At least someone is looking over and protecting our city._

_For more, please visit: www.brooklynbeacon.com_

Clarke looked up from the newspaper and smiled. She was glad someone recognized The Commander's actions as goodwill. They had even said the crime rate had been lower. Clarke had no doubt it was mostly, if not all the masked girl's doing. 

She took the last bite of her muffin and a sip of her coffee, glancing at her clock. It was 7:49. Her shift was at 8:30, and it took her about 25 minutes to get to the hospital. The blonde sighed, she should probably get going now. Clarke took one final sip of her coffee before dumping everything in the sink. She gathered her things, grabbed her keys, and took one last look at The Commander's green eyes. She smiled, and left.

• • •

After a grueling day at the hospital, Clarke was ready to come home. She loved her job, she really did, but on days where she had to deal with two broken noses due to two stupid kids, and that guy who always thinks he's dying even though he clearly is not, and of course that one coworker who always hits on her even though she keeps telling him to back off, sometimes she wished she had pursued art instead of medicine. Her mother had always wanted her to become a doctor, like her, but her dad thought she should pursue her dream of becoming an artist. Clarke was leaning toward art, but when her father died tragically when she was sixteen, she nearly gave it up entirely. So instead Clarke studied medicine and became a registered nurse.

Of course, she still drew and painted occasionally; she even had some of her works hanging around her apartment. It just wasn't the same without her dad. She missed him, and whenever she painted or drew, it reminded her of him, and most times it made her sad. 

But today, she couldn't get a certain brunette's emerald eyes out of her mind, and her fingers itched to draw. So when Clarke finally managed to open her apartment door after fumbling with her keys, she was, to say the least, met with an unexpected, pleasant surprise, when she saw the very being that currently filled her thoughts standing in her kitchen. 

For a moment, no one spoke, but then excitement was replaced with worry, as Clarke remembered the reason for the masked girl's visits. She rushed foreword, throwing everything onto her couch.

"Oh my god, are you okay? What is it this time?" She examined the girl, looking for any signs of injury.

"Clarke, I—" the brunette began before she was interrupted by the frantic blonde.

"Bullet wound? Stab wound? Any broken bones?" Clarke was rambling, she knew it, but she couldn't bear the thought of the green-eyed girl being hurt, even if it was the only way to see her.

"Clarke—" the masked girl tried again, to no avail.

"How many stitches do you need? I'll get my kit, it's right over—" 

"Clarke Griffin!" The brunette's tone was forceful, finally stopping Clarke, "it's okay, I'm fine." She faced the blonde, grasping her forearms, looking into her blue eyes. They stood for a moment while Clarke caught her breath, before she spoke.

"Oh," a look of relief washed over her face, "then why are you here?" A look of hurt flashed in the masked girl's eyes, and Clarke immediately regretted her words. The brunette let go of the blonde's arms, and took a step back. 

"Listen, I, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Clarke said, her face filled with regret. The girl's green eyes softened.

"I know, it's alright," she replied, and Clarke gave a small smile.

"I, uh, I," the brunette swallowed thickly, stumbling on her words. Clarke's eyebrow raised slightly. This wasn't like her, mumbling and stumbling, "I, uh, came to see you," she rubbed the back of her neck almost sheepishly. Clarke thought it was adorable, a warm feeling swelled in her heart. The usually serious and stoic vigilante was stammering awkwardly. 

"Really?" Clarke asked, slipping her jacket off her shoulders and taking a step towards the brunette, "And to think this whole time I just thought I was your call nurse," her tone borderline flirtatious. She couldn't see it under her mask, but Clarke was sure the girl raised her eyebrow. 

"Yes, really. I'll have you know, that night you stitched my bullet wound up, I was halfway across the city, but I chose to risk my life to see you. I could've easily had someone else tend to me, but I came here, to see you," the masked girl's tone was sincere, her words sinking deep into Clarke's heart. She was quite taken aback at the brunette's confession. 

"I-I," it was Clarke's turn to mumble, "I uh, don't know what to say. The night you fist stumbled into my apartment with your bleeding leg, I felt a spark of something, I can't explain it, and then I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I was hoping to see you again, and then you did show up again, and I helped you, and now I can't bear the thought of seeing you hurt or losing you, and I—" Clarke was suddenly cut off by a pair of the softest, sweetest lips crashing into her own. For a moment, Clarke went rigid, standing still, until she realized what was happening. The girl was _kissing_ her, and it was amazing! Clarke felt the brunette begin to pull away, and she grabbed her collar, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. 

It lasted a long moment before the masked girl pulled away, taking a step back.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes focused on the floor, not meeting Clarke's sky blue gaze.

"Please don't be," the blonde was breathless, still trying to comprehend what just happened. The Commander glanced at the clock, before bringing her eyes to meet Clarke's.

"It's getting late, I should go," she said, turning toward the balcony. Clarke quickly grabbed her arm, facing her toward the blonde.

"It's only," Clarke checked the clock, "6:18," she said, turning back to the girl.

"It's getting later, I should go," she corrected, receiving a look from the blonde.

"Wait," Clarke demanded, looking into the brunette's jade orbs, "when will I see you again?" A small smile graced the masked girl's lips, as she covered Clarke's hand that was holding her arm with her own, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Soon," she replied, slipping out of Clarke's grasp, walking toward the balcony. 

As Clarke watched her disappear over the side of her balcony once again, she realized she still didn't know the masked girl's name.


	4. Strangers in a Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a little more about The Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! So sorry for the long wait, school is keeping me so busy. So I was originally just going to have this story be in Clarke's point of view, but then I thought maybe I should add Lexa's. But if you just want to read Clarke's PoV, you should skip this chapter, but you'll probably be waiting a while, heh sorry. Also, I'm sorry I haven't replied to any of your comments, but thank you so much for all the nice comments! I'll try to remember to reply to them. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Lexa Woods was not your average 28 year old. By day, she worked as a barista at the local Starbucks, and by night, the college dropout donned her vigilante persona, The Commander. The name had been given to her when she was roughing up some thugs one night. The next day, she saw an article about her in the local newspaper that a witness wrote, claiming she "took 'em out like a commander takes out his combatants," and thus giving her the name The Commander. She liked it and it stuck.

Before she dropped out, Lexa had studied martial arts and political science at TonDc University for three years, before dropping college to join the military when her patents tragically died in a car crash. She was a good soldier, maybe even one of the best. Lexa served two tours in Afghanistan, and would have been honorably discharged, but that all changed when her platoon's Humvee hit an IED one day, killing two of her crew. Shards of shrapnel had sliced into her back, arms, and legs. Somehow, her best friend, Lincoln, had managed to drag her out of the wreckage, and staunched her wounds before help came, even when half his arm had been blown off. Without him, she wouldn't be alive; she owed him her life. 

After she'd been medically discharged, Lexa suffered through two years of physical therapy and PTSD. She turned toward the only member of her family left, her older sister, Anya, who gladly offered a helping hand. Honestly Lexa didn't know where she'd be without her sister, and for that she was grateful. They shared a loft in Brooklyn, and Anya was the only person who knew about Lexa's vigilante persona, except of course, her former girlfriend Costia, and the love of her life. Only about a year after she'd donned the mask and leather, Costia had been brutally murdered. Lexa had blamed herself, for not being there to save her, and she almost hung it up, but Anya convinced her not to. So Lexa trained, upgraded her gear, trained some more, and even though Anya reminded her New York was a big city and she couldn't save them all, Lexa vowed never to let anyone else she loved get hurt. 

It was a good thing most of the crime that happened in her area only did so at night. The vigilante's Starbucks boss wasn't so keen on tardiness, or skeptical excuses for skipping shifts. Luckily, her shift was from 10 am to 4 pm, which was good, since she was usually up late in the night fighting crime. Her job was boring, and her pay was lousy, but it gave her something to do, and helped pay rent.

The painful memory of Costia still haunted the vigilante, but lately, she couldn't keep a certain blonde nurse out of her mind. Clarke. Clarke Griffin. She liked the way the name flowed off her tongue. Lexa never expected to meet Clarke the way she did, quite literally crashing into the blonde's life. She often relived the moment they first met, that summer night on Clarke's balcony. She must've looked like a complete and utter disaster, dressed all in black with a bleeding gash in her thigh. She should've known that thug was going to pull a knife, yet she still didn't see it. 

So why did she decide to climb three stories with a bleeding leg and so ungracefully let herself into the blonde's apartment? Lexa didn't believe in fate or destiny, but for some reason that night, she felt drawn to do so. And after meeting Clarke, she had never felt so drawn to another person. Not since Costia, but Lexa couldn't afford to fall in love again, to lose someone she loved again. Could she? Let Clarke in? Allow herself to fall for Clarke, letting weakness seep into her heart? Lexa didn't know. 

All that she did know, was that she could at least trust this girl who had saved her twice now. She wasn't lying when she told Clarke she was halfway across the city when she was shot in the shoulder. In fact, Lexa had been closer to her loft, and could've easily tended to herself, but she chose to see Clarke, because she wanted to. When Lexa realized the blonde actually, truly cared for her, she allowed to weakness to take over, and when she kissed Clarke, she felt sparks fly. It was cheesy and cliché, she knew, but there wasn't really any other way to describe the feeling that went through her whole body.

But then she fled. She couldn't allow the weakness to win, she wouldn't. She told Clarke she would see her soon, but she knew her words held empty promises the moment they left her mouth. Lexa wanted to see Clarke and those blue eyes that seemed to see right through her again, but right now, she just couldn't. 

Lexa sighed, angrily burying her face into the pillows on her bed. It was Saturday morning, rays of sunshine peeking through her blinds. She heard footsteps and a knock on her open door.

"Hey, Lex, time to get up." It was Anya. Big Sis Anya, who would always look after her little sister. 

Lexa sat up, blinking away sleep and the many thoughts of Clarke that plagued her mind. The aroma of coffee filled her nostrils; Anya always made a fresh pot every morning. Her dark brown locks were tousled from sleep, the long curls falling out of the braids they were previously in. The brunette sat up and stretched, before turning to glance at the clock perched on her bedside table. It read 9:24. Lexa groaned, slumping back into the sheets. Her shift started soon, but she was already exhausted, having only received about 6 hours of sleep. There was a break in at the corner store, two armed robberies five blocks away, and someone stole a car. Needless to say, The Commander had a busy night. 

"C'mon, Lexa, get up already. Your shift starts in half an hour. You know your boss hates it when you're late," Anya said. Lexa let out an unintelligible noise, burying her head deeper into the pillows. Anya took a sip of her coffee, cocking her head.

"You still moping and groaning about that Clarke girl?" _That_ got her to sit up. Lexa turned, giving her sister a glare. Well, now she was fully awake and grumpier than ever. She all but stomped over to her dresser, grabbing her black polo, khaki slacks, and her towel, shooting Anya one last glare.

"Breakfast is waiting in the kitchen!" Anya called over her shoulder, as Lexa disappeared into the bathroom. 

The hot stream of water felt good against her back, soothing her aching, sore muscles. Lexa quickly washed her hair, face, and body, before stepping out of the shower and drying herself off. She pulled on her khakis, and tucked in her black polo, leaving the top button unbuttoned, and looping her belt around her waist. She dried and brushed her long, wavy, brown locks, before putting her hair up in its usual do. She braided her hair into a long braid down the back of her head. Then she braided two thin braids on each side of her head, before looping them behind and attaching them into her one big braid. Once she was done, Lexa looked in the mirror to admire her handiwork. Seemingly satisfied, the brunette gave herself a curt nod, tossing her towel into the hamper, before exiting the bathroom. 

Lexa walked to the kitchen, where Anya was sitting at the table, her eyes concentrated on her phone, a mug of coffee grasped in her right hand. Lexa slid into a chair, a plate of eggs and toast waiting in front of her. She picked up her fork and began to dig in to her breakfast.

"There's fresh coffee," Anya nodded toward the still steaming pot sitting on the counter. Lexa lightly scoffed, pausing to chew and swallow her food.

"You do know I work at a Starbucks, Anya, a coffee joint? Coffee is basically my life," Lexa said, lifting a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"Well, half of it. The other half is beating up thugs and chasing down thieves," Anya remarked, taking a sip of her coffee. 

"Yeah, well, someone has to do it," Lexa grumbled, biting into her toast. They continued in silence, other than the sounds of Lexa munching on her breakfast, when Anya spoke up.

"So," she said nonchalantly, causing her sister to glance up, "when are you going to visit your pretty, blonde nurse?" The vigilante stiffened, stabbing the last bite of her eggs rather forcefully with her fork. 

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about that," the younger brunette growled, her green eyes shooting her sister a glare. Anya let out an exasperated sigh, setting her phone and mug gently on the table.

"Lex, come on. It's been like what? Two months? Are you just going to ignore her for the rest of your life? No! She's probably worried sick about you, or worse! She probably thinks you're dead. You have to go see her, or it's going to eat you up inside," Anya finished, looking into Lexa's eyes. She was right, it had been just about two months since the last time she saw Clarke, but she'd decided it was for the best. 

"She's not going to be like Costia." 

A lump formed in Lexa's throat, and she swallowed hard.

"Are you done?" She asked, her gaze focused on her empty plate. Anya sighed.

"Yes."

"Good, I have to go to work," Lexa stood up and placed her dish in the dishwasher after rinsing it in the sink. 

"Lexa—"

"Gotta go, An, I'll see you later!" Lexa quickly grabbed her bag, giving her older sister a half smile, before heading out the door. She glanced at her phone; it was 9:51. Luckily, the Starbucks she worked at was only two blocks away.

 _I'll get there just in time,_ Lexa thought, dashing down the stairs, and out onto he street. 

• • •

It was 10:01 when Lexa burst through the back door. She quickly grabbed her green apron and slipped it over her head, tying it behind her back. 

"Woods, you're late," her boss, a beefy man with a bushy goatee by the name of Gustus, barked as she walked behind the counter toward the register. 

"Come on, Gus, it's only by a minute," Lexa said, rolling her eyes. 

"That's twice this month, Woods. One more strike and you're _out_ ," Gustus growled, "now get to work!"

"Yes, sir," Lexa grumbled, as he walked away, taking her place at the register. She couldn't lose this job, it was the only thing paying her half of the rent. On Saturdays, the vigilante doubled as a cashier and barista, since they were usually short on workers. 

"Tough night?" Lexa turned to the voice of her coworker, Indra, who was busy preparing a drink. She offered a small smile.

"You could say that again." She turned back to her first customer, a middle-aged man wearing a business suit, rapidly speaking into his cell phone. Moments later, he ended the call and pocketed his phone. 

"Sorry about that," he muttered. Lexa shook her head.

"No problem, what can I get for you?" He glanced up at the menu, contemplating his order. Lexa looked past his his shoulder as a rather noisy group of three young women walked in. She moved her gaze back to the man as the loud group walked up behind him.

"I'd like an iced coffee with milk, and a—" but Lexa suddenly didn't hear him as one of the three young women let out a boisterous laugh. 

_Probably about some stupid college gossip,_ she thought.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Lexa thought she saw a flash of annoyance flicker across the man's face, but she chose to ignore it.

"I said I'd like a tall iced coffee with milk and a blueberry scone, please," he repeated, as Lexa typed up his order. 

"That'll be $6.32," Lexa said, bringing up his total. He handed her a ten dollar bill, muttering a "thanks" when she gave him his change and receipt.

"Your order will be ready for pickup over there," Lexa gestured toward the pickup window. The man nodded, walking over as the group of three approached.

"Hi, welcome to Starbucks, what can I—" but the brunette's words fell short when she glanced up from her register, and looked into the very pair of blue eyes she was dreading to see. Clarke Griffin.


	5. Hot For Barista

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarke receives an unexpected surprise, among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG HELLO GUYS REMEMBER ME???? I am SO SORRY for not updating in literally half a year holy shit I am horrible!!!! I hope you guys can forgive me, here I'll even give you this (L)extra long chapter to make up for it!!! Also happy new year guys! Wow, it's been so long, truly I am sorry guys. School has been crazy and then I had terrible writer's block, so I apologize for not updating sooner.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I'm sure most if not all of you have seen what happened to our beloved Lexa, and honestly that made me not want to continue this, but I decided to continue because I know a lot of you have enjoyed this (I hope haha). 
> 
> Yes I'm still alive, here's chapter five! :)

The fourth time Clarke saw her, her heart stopped and for a split second, and for a moment she forgot how to breathe. 

Two months. Two months! That was how long Clarke had gone since the last time she saw those pretty green eyes. Two months since she had been kissed by her mysterious masked girl. Two months since she disappeared without a trace. Clarke was furious. 

"Argh! Did she think she could kiss me like that and then leave without a word?" The blonde exclaimed angrily one day. It was Saturday, Clarke had decided to meet Raven and Octavia for morning coffee before she began her late morning shift at the hospital. 

"Clarkey, maybe she's busy. Doesn't she like, fight crime and stuff?" Raven said, as the three walked toward the Starbucks near the hospital. Clarke shot Raven a glare.

"Haven't I told you not to call me that?" Raven shrugged, "besides, even if she was busy, wouldn't she stop by once in a while? I mean, she told me she came to see me just because she wanted to. Why hasn't she come by in two months?" Clarke huffed. 

"Clarke," Octavia spoke up, "maybe she just doesn't want to get you caught up in all her crime fighting business. She's probably just trying to protect you."

"Protecting me by not seeing me? How does that work? If she was protecting me, don't you think she'd stop by at least once in a while to check on me? She hasn't in two months! Besides, I don't need protecting," Clarke said, anger lacing her tone, as she turned to look both ways before they crossed the street. 

The three friends made their way across the street, pausing to stop in front of the Starbucks located on the corner of the block. Octavia pulled open the door and they entered the coffee shop. 

"You know," Raven mused as the door shut behind them, "maybe your vigilante girl is the one who's in danger, and she's waiting for _you_ to come rescue her!" Clarke laughed boisterously, turning toward her friend. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Rave," she said as they approached the cashier, stopping behind a man who was currently giving his order. 

"Hey," Raven chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender, "you never know." 

Once the man finished paying for his order, the group of three walked up to the counter. As Clarke's eyes glanced over their cashier, her breath hitched in her throat. She looked strikingly familiar.

 _No, it can't be,_ Clarke thought, her thoughts drifting toward the green-eyed vigilante. Clarke didn't think it could possibly be true, but when the cashier stopped mid-sentence and emerald eyes met sky blue, she knew it was her. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, until Clarke let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. A part of her was relieved to see that the vigilante was alright, but another part was furious that she hadn't come by in two months. 

"Where have you been?" Clarke hissed, her angry side taking over. The brunette's green eyes widened, and she blinked once, twice, three times. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Clarke took this chance to press further.

"I've been waiting for two months! Two months and you haven't stopped by!" The brunette's eyes darted toward Clarke's companions, sending a silent plea for help. Octavia and Raven simply took a few steps back, Raven throwing her a smug look, as if to say, _you're on your own, buddy._ The vigilante swallowed, turning her gaze back to the furious blonde, still unspeaking. 

"Do you any idea how worried I was—" Clarke continued, pausing to glance down at the brunette's name tag. Lexa, it read. So she does have a name. "—Lexa? Wow, that's a pretty name, but that's not the point," Clarke rambled, her sapphire eyes glaring daggers at Lexa's jade. 

"Lexa? Everything alright over there?" A voice called from behind, causing the brunette to briefly turn away from Clarke's fiery gaze.

"Yes, Indra," she answered, finally finding her voice, "everything is fine," she turned back to Clarke.

"Well," The blonde said expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest, her right eyebrow jutting ever so slightly, "what do you have to say for yourself, _Commander?_ " Lexa's green eyes widened, and darted from side to side.

"Please, Clarke, not so loud," she said her tone slightly unnerved. Clarke softened at her panicked expression.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, "I was just worried. I didn't know if you were okay." 

"I'm here, I'm alright. I'm sorry for making you worry," Lexa said, her eyes softening, "can we talk later? My shift ends at four."

"I won't be back from the hospital until six," Clarke said, mentally cursing her supervisor for giving her the long shift. She wanted to talk to Lexa.

"I'll come see you tonight then," Lexa said, looking Clarke in the eye, "I promise." The blonde held her emerald gaze for a long moment. Her tone was sincere, so Clarke decided to trust her.

"I'll hold you to that, Lexa. If you break another promise—" 

"I won't," the vigilante replied, almost too quickly, "I promise," she added, giving a small smile. Clarke swore a part of her melted on the inside. Lexa looked so pretty when she smiled.

"We'll see about that," she said, giving a coy smile of her own. The two stood frozen, neither speaking, as they held each other's gazes. Clarke took this chance to admire the brunette's features. The plumpness of her lips, the sharp curve of her jaw, and her defined cheekbones. Her green apron really brought out the green in her eyes. Not to mention she looked adorably sexy in her Starbucks getup. 

_I can not believe I just though that,_ the blonde mused to herself, lightly shaking her head. Clarke had to admit, Lexa was beautiful, and even more so without her face paint and mask. 

"So, what can I get for you, Clarke?" The brunette finally spoke, reminding Clarke of what she was doing here in the first place. 

"A tall, iced coffee, with one cream, two sugars, and a shot of caramel. Remember it," Clarke winked, causing Lexa's eyebrow to raise slightly, as she punched her order into the register. 

"That'll be $2.38, Clarke," her voice was husky, as she clicked the 'k' of her name. The blonde smiled, handing her a 5 dollar bill. As cheesy as it may sound, Clarke swore she felt a jolt of electricity shoot up her arm when their fingers briefly touched. The corners of the vigilante's mouth curved slightly into a small smirk as she handed Clarke her change, brushing her fingers gently over the blonde's outstretched palm. Clarke hoped Lexa didn't notice how she shivered under her touch.

"I'll get that right for you," the barista said, her eyes never leaving Clarke's, "Indra, can you take over here for a moment?" she called to a woman Clarke assumed to be Indra. She moved down to the pick up line as Indra took her friends' orders, watching Lexa prepare her coffee. She couldn't help but admire Lexa's toned backside beneath her black khakis.

Once she was finished, Lexa gently placed Clarke's coffee on the pickup counter, smiling up at the blonde.

"I'll see you tonight, Clarke," she said, sliding the cup foreword. Clarke smiled back, blue eyes locking with green.

"Don't be late." Lexa's only response was the upward quirk of her mouth, eyes gleaming. Clarke picked up her coffee, watching as the brunette shuffled back to the register, more people beginning to filter into the shop. She waited for her friends to join her at the pickup counter, a small smile plastered across her face.

"Yo, Princess Griff, is that who I think it is?" Raven said, as she and Octavia approached Clarke. 

"That's her," the blonde replied, watching as Lexa took the orders of the new customers, not even bothering to chastise Raven for using her despised nickname. 

"I can't believe your vigilante girl works at a fucking Starbucks!" Octavia laughed, taking a sip of her drink. 

"It was certainly a pleasant surprise," Clarke mused, stealing another glance at Lexa. Even her profile was beautiful. She felt a tug at her arm.

"Come on, Princess, if you spend another minute drooling over your girlfriend, you're gonna be late for work," Raven smirked. Clarke shot her a glare.

"She's not my girlfriend," the blonde retorted, glancing at her watch. Raven was right, if she didn't get going soon, she would be late for her shift, "let's go." Clarke followed her two best friends as they walked toward the entrance. Clarke's eyes flickered back to the cashier one last time, catching an emerald gaze. The brunette offered a smile, as Clarke pulled open the door. She smiled back, hoping Lexa would keep her promise. 

Outside the Starbucks, Clarke turned to her friends. 

"Thanks for grabbing coffee with me, guys," she said, completely ignoring Raven's smirk.

"Sure thing, Clarkey! Anything for our Princess, right O?" 

"You're absolutely right, Raven," Octavia answered, "but I think it would've been better if she'd actually talked to us instead of making heart eyes with her vigilante girl!" The two brunettes erupted in laughter, as Clarke's cheeks tinged pink.

"Alright, alright. You can stop now," the blonde glared at her friends, but found herself smiling along with them.

"Ok, ok, I'm done," Raven chuckled, "you should probably get to work, though, it's almost 10:30." 

"Enjoy your date tonight," Octavia waggled her eyebrows, grinning. Clarke rolled her eyes.

"I'll see you guys later," she smiled, shaking her head in amusement. 

"Go saves some lives, Dr. Griff!" Raven called as they head off in different directions. Clarke waved at her friends, turning to walk in the direction of the hospital, smiling to herself. She loved her friends, but sometimes they could be a bit much. She sipped her coffee, thoughts of Lexa drifting through her mind. She wasn't particularly looking forward to her long shift, but just the thought of seeing her mysterious vigilante was enough to get her through the day.

• • •

"What's got you so smiley today?"

Clarke snapped out of her daydream, the voice startling her. She was sitting in the break room, eating her lunch. She turned her head to look at her coworker and friend, Monty Green, sporting a raised eyebrow. Clarke flushed, realizing she had been thinking about Lexa. 

"Nothing," she said quickly, noticing how both Monty's eyebrows suddenly inched up.

"Really," he was unconvinced, "I know that look," he stated. It was Clarke's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"What look?" She fully turned toward the other nurse, slightly narrowing her eyes. 

"You have a look," he began, "it's the look you give when you think you might be in love," Monty looked at Clarke, his mouth quirking upward into a small smirk. A blush spread over the blonde's cheeks as her eyes widened.

"I do not have a look," Clarke scoffed, turning back to her untouched lunch.

"Yes you do," Monty countered, taking a bite out of his sandwich, chewing and swallowing before continuing, "Clarke, you took your lunch out minutes ago. You've literally been sitting there the whole time staring into space with that look on your face. Not eating, not talking, hell, not even blinking. It was kind of scary."

Clarke blinked, glancing down at her untouched lunch. Monty was right. She turned to her fellow nurse.

"Oh my god, you're right." Had she really been thinking about Lexa for that long? Was she, _in love_ with Lexa? Clarke shook her head. No, she barely knew her, she couldn't possibly already be in love with her. There was, without a doubt, an undeniable attraction she felt toward the vigilante, but love? Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she couldn't think about this now. She felt Monty poke her arm.

"You okay, Clarke? You look like you just had an intense internal battle." She looked up at him, his soft brown eyes laced with concern. She smiled fondly. Monty was too pure, too good for this world.

"Monty, you're too good for the world," Clarke voiced her thought aloud, placing her hand on his forearm, "I'm fine, just thinking." 

"About whoever made you get that look?" He asked, the corner of his mouth quirking. The blonde rolled her eyes, playfully scowling at him.

"If you must know, yes," she confessed, earning a triumphant look from her friend. He grinned, looking at her expectantly.

"Well? Who is it?" 

"Ah, that's a story for another time. Come on, Monty, lunch break's almost over," Clarke said, smirking as disappointment washed over the young nurse's face, as he pouted adorably. 

"But you haven't eaten one bite!" Monty exclaimed, finishing the last bite of his sandwich. Clarke gathered her uneaten lunch and hastily made for the door.

"I'll eat on the way, come on, we've got rounds!" She called, Monty close behind, "if we hurry, I might tell you about Lexa." Monty raised an eyebrow, beaming. Clarke flushed, realizing her slip up.

"So she does have a name!" Clarke chuckled, holding the door open.

"Shut up."

• • •

It was 6:30 when Clarke arrived back at her apartment. She placed her keys on the table and hung up her coat on the rack. It had been a long day, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't though about Lexa at least half the time. The blonde smiled, remembering today's lunch break, when she recounted how she met Lexa to her fellow nurse, Monty. Clarke had intentionally excluded the vigilante details, knowing Lexa wouldn't want her to expose her secret to anyone. 

Clarke look about her apartment, her face falling as she noticed the vigilante wasn't there. Her brows furrowed in disappointment.

 _Lexa's shift ended at four, why isn't she here?_ Clarke thought, then immediately chastised herself. Lexa didn't owe her anything, although she did promise she'd stop by tonight. 

_Maybe she's just running late, or duh, doing badass crime fighting stuff,_ Clarke thought, almost forgetting how Lexa spent most of her nights.

A sudden crash outside her balcony wrenched Clarke from her thoughts. Her heart began to race, surely Lexa would've used the front door, right? Then again, Lexa was unpredictable. Clarke slowly inched her way toward the balcony, stopping to grab a knife from the kitchen, just in case. 

Just as she was about to open the balcony doors, they swung open to reveal Lexa, dressed in her Commander gear, clutching one hand to her abdomen. Clarke almost rolled her eyes; this was beginning to become a common meeting theme. Her annoyance was quickly replaced with worry, as she noticed Lexa was grimacing in pain.

"Lexa? Are you alright?" Clarke placed the knife on a nearby table before turning back to the Commander. The brunette attempted to smile.

"Hello, Clarke," she croaked, through slightly clenched teeth. It was then Clarke noticed the small knife sticking out of Lexa's side. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my god, Lexa! You're hurt!" She hastily lead the bleeding girl into her apartment, setting her down on the couch. Lexa grunted, clamping a hand to her belly. 

"Lexa, what happened?" Clarke asked, carefully removing Lexa's jacket. Her undershirt was a bloody mess, and Clarke hastily ran to grab her med kit, which she luckily just restocked with bandages. 

"Got into a fight," Lexa lazily answered, her breathing becoming more erratic. Clarke didn't press, instead she ran to fetch a towel, placing it under the brunette. 

"I need to cut this shirt off, okay?" Lexa nodded, and Clarke proceeded to cut away the shirt, revealing the bloody wound. Luckily, Clarke noticed the small knife didn't seem to be in too deep, but she would have to pull it out.

"Lexa, I need to pull out the knife. It's going to hurt," the blonde warned, looking into Lexa's green eyes. The vigilante nodded.

"Nothing I haven't felt before," she managed to get out, her breaths labored. 

"Here, you can bite this to handle the pain," Clarke handed Lexa a rolled up towel. The brunette accepted, placing it between her teeth. 

"This is gonna hurt," Clarke said, before forcefully pulling the blade from Lexa's abdomen. The vigilante's eyes clamped shut and a muffled scream escaped her lips as blood began to flow from the wound. Clarke's heart ached for the girl, as she quickly pressed bandages to her toned stomach, catching the blood. 

"It's okay, you're okay," Clarke soothed, pressing a cool cloth to Lexa's forehead. 

Once the bleeding had stopped and Lexa's breathing had retuned to normal, Clarke was ready to close her wound. 

"I'm gonna suture your wound closed, okay?" Lexa nodded.

"I know the drill," she offered a weak smile. The blonde returned the smile, gently squeezing Lexa's gloved hand.

"If I weren't stitching you up, I would hold your hand," she said.

"Your smile is more than enough to get me through the pain, Clarke," Lexa replied, causing the blonde to blush.

Clarke's skilled hands closed the wound in silence, Lexa's steady breathing the only sound permeating the silence. Once she was finished, she wrapped Lexa's abdomen in bandages. Giving the vigilante's hand another squeeze, she turned to look in her green eyes.

"There, all done, but you should probably stay off the streets for a few days to recover, Commander," her lips twitching into a smile, "we really need to stop meeting like this," she chuckled.

"Thank you, Clarke," Lexa pulled a hand from behind, revealing a slightly crumpled rose, a few petals missing, "sorry I'm late," she offered a sheepish smile, handing the flower to the blonde. Clarke swore she could laugh, cry, and kiss Lexa all at the same time, as she smiled at the adorable gesture.

"Lexa, you are the sweetest," Clarke gladly accepted the rose, walking toward the sink to fill up a vase and a glass of water.

"Thank you for keeping your promise," Clarke said, returning to the couch, "you should get some rest. Here, take these for the pain," she handed Lexa the glass of water and two pills. The brunette gladly accepted, downing the two pills with ease. 

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Clarke asked, genuinely intrigued, "of course you don't have to if you don't want to. You know I respect you, right? Because I wouldn't want you to feel—" Clarke was cut off by a hand on her forearm. She looked up at emerald eyes, suddenly concerned with Lexa's expression. Even with her mask and face paint, she could clearly see a mix of guilt, worry and pain in her eyes.

"Clarke, we need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duhhhhh!!! Oh no! Those four dreaded words! Sorry for the cliffhanger, but that was getting way to long! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, thanks for reading!


End file.
